Imagination Does Wonders
by Ballerina.Embers
Summary: Reaver forgets the name of the one in his bed, so he resorts to his imaginations...


A delirious murmur and a delicious moan spilled from the prostitute's lips. Towering over was Reaver, who pounded into the younger male with no mercy in his actions. It was good to be the one in charge. Of everything.

He had spent a few nights with various women and he's had more then women in his bed a few times before. Swinger, marksman and King of Thieves, he was also mayor of Bloodstone. Not officially, but who needs officials to make things permanent. Reaver was living a free endless life. If you could live forever, how would you spend it? Mourning and praying with saints? Laughing with the mischievous sinners? It's a personally choice, but he didn't mind having a balance of lust, greed, pride and sloth. It was relaxing, sitting in his den and drinking while by the fireplace. It was good to know you could buy anyone's body without needing to mention money. It was amazing that he managed to have the life he's always dreamed.

Confidence born in ignorance, you could say…

"Reaver!" A blissful call rang through out the Bloodstone Manor. Nay, Reaver did not give a damn for name-calling. Flattering words were spewed out of the young man, but not once did Reaver call the other's name back. Why, you could ask? Well, Reaver had forgotten his name somewhere along the way between the front door and his bed. It couldn't be helped, he thought.

"Oh, Reaver!"

Short dull nails dug into the back of The King of Thieves and made vicious red marks, which turned into small rivers of scarlet. Reaver gritted his teeth, but it wasn't important right now. He continued to slam in deep and push in again and again. The wounds from this rough session would heal without leaving scars; he knew this because of his immortal body.

"Mmph—" Nearly there… Already, the walls that surrounded his lower half tightened, showing promising results for what may occur. He hadn't quite reached his desired state though…

The marksman reached for what he imagined chocolate hair, but this was not so. Reaver's eyes closed, and he envisioned the rich brown hair that belonged to another. Reaver's stomach tightened. His hand drifted to the chest of the prostitute and bit his bottom lip, trying to imagine a bulk structure made up of muscles. The prostitute was very thin and feminine for a man. A bead of sweat came down from Reaver's brow, and he hungrily liked his lips.

"Ohh, Reaver!" The male called out from underneath. Becoming incredibly tight, the submissive prostitute released white-hot cream onto his own belly, and just as that happened, he seized and tightened even more.

Reaver saw this as his opportunity to take advantage of.

Reaver's skilled hands grabbed and latched onto the thighs of the still ejaculating male, forcing them up and having the prostitute's knees at either side of his head. Now his ankles were up and over his head, and even if that man wasn't flexible enough for it, he was now.

Reaver growl fiercely, and with the great tightness of the other male, he continued to ram hard and fast, finding himself nearly at an end. His eyes were still tight, and his muscles glistened in all of his glory.

"Sparrow…" Reaver whispered just before seeing white. Less then a second later, he was trembling, becoming dry and empty as he poured into the male, who was a little confused, but still dizzy from the sexual high. Still, as Reaver exited, he couldn't help but ask him…

"What did you say?"

Reaver grinned as he looked to the prostitute, whose name still escaped him.

"I said, don't leave a mess on my bed, _knave_." He said, pointing to the boy who then struggled to keep the white fluids inside and out from staining Reaver's priceless rich bed sheets. Reaver found his Dragonstomper, and managed to somehow put pants on before aiming it at the prostitute, who started to scramble off the bed and out of Reaver's sight. No, Reaver did not shoot… Not because he was feeling nice, no.

He didn't enjoy bloodstains on his fine polished wooden walls.


End file.
